


Magnestorm

by Nalou



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Music, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Charles Is a Big Dorkface, Erik is Crushing Harder than a 12-year Old Girl, First Kiss, Hellfest, M/M, Metal Music, Music, Protective Erik, musician erik
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-11 03:09:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11705562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nalou/pseuds/Nalou
Summary: Music in his ears, hands supporting his body as he slams over the thick crowd squeezed in front of the main stage of the festival, as the singer’s voice resonates all around him: this is like drugs in his veins. Charles enjoys it. Loves it. He revels in it. It’s the only way he feels like being truly himself. So he does it, again and again, his thin frame easily supported by all the raised hands, always ending so close to the stage, to the artists.Too bad it doesn't end very well for him.





	Magnestorm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Judith H (Elizabeth_Mary_Holmes)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elizabeth_Mary_Holmes/gifts).



> Hello everyone !  
> Here's a few words about my world : metal music.  
> People often say that metal fans are brutes and not to play with, but actually most of them are real teddybears.  
> The place is mainly inspired by the Hellfest festival, you can check out the plans of the site to better see where they all are going.  
> Betaed by my lovely, dear Flo'wTralala, as usual. All remaining mistakes are mine, and as English is not my first language, don't hesitate to point any of them !

Music in his ears, hands supporting his body as he slams over the thick crowd squeezed in front of the main stage of the festival, as the singer’s voice resonates all around him: this is like drugs in his veins. Charles enjoys it. Loves it. He revels in it. It’s the only way he feels like being truly himself. So he does it, again and again, his thin frame easily supported by all the raised hands, always ending so close to the stage, to the artists.

This time, he’s so hot he left his tee-shirt with his sister, and his fair skin prickles at every rough touch, at every sun kiss. He closes his eyes as his favorite singer accompanies the instruments in a brutal song.

He rides the wave of metalheads, his fingers raised in the air in the shape of horns, getting closer and closer to the stage, when he suddenly blacks out.

***

Erik is in the middle of his third verse when he sees the body fall and disappear under the crowd. The challengers seem to be looking for him, as people tend to reappear fast when falling during a slam, but nothing changes for a few long seconds. He signals to his friends to stop playing as he approaches the edge of the platform they are on. The fans have stopped moving, surprised by this abrupt end of the song, so he takes his mic once again and asks them about the shirtless guy that was just there a moment ago.

Erik had seen him slamming under the sun multiple times, all white skin and dark floppy hair, sweat making him glow slightly under the powerful lights that bathe the crowd. But he is gone now and Erik fears for him. He sees the men and women look around them and suddenly there’s movement in the middle, people starting to shoot as they stagger and pick a body from the ground. Erik jumps from the platform as the challengers shoot for the medics. The man is bloodied and doesn’t move.

Erik gets to the barriers and help the challengers and the fans to get him to his side of it, lying him down as the medics come running.

He’s breathing, but his nose is bleeding and he doesn’t respond to any of Erik’s questions, his eyes closed.

As soon as the guy is taken away, Erik has to come back to the stage and finish his gig with apologies, gladly accepted. He can’t wait for this to be over already, his mind fixated on the wounded guy.

***

Charles’ eyes flutter open as he regains consciousness, his head killing him, brain pounding between his ears.

He is lying down under a tent, and something cold is resting on his forehead. He feels like shit, his body aches, and he doesn’t know how he ended up here.

But he’s not alone.

He’s not alone, or maybe he’s dreaming, because Erik _fucking_ Lehnsherr is hovering over him, his gorgeous face tense with concern. His thin lips are moving but Charles can’t quite understand what he is saying; but it can’t be possible that the most beautiful man he has ever landed his eyes on is in here with him, so Charles just closes his eyes again, tries to move his head a bit, but the pain won’t leave.

He gives up waking up and opens his dreamy eyes again. Lehnsherr is still here, his large, strong hand landing on Charles’ chest as he leans closer, gazing at him, so Charles just smiles the brightest smile he knows.

“May I ask for an autograph?”

His voice is a bit slurry, and the man - his idol, truly - laughs.

***

The kid was worrying him, so Erik ended up going to the medic tent after a shower, and he found him there, lying still unconscious on the gurney, but his eyes moved behind his shut eyelids and his chest rose and fell steadily.

So now Erik just sits and waits, relieved.

The blood has mostly been washed off his face and torso, but there’s still dried patches spotting his skin. _He’s beautiful_ , is all Erik can think of, even like that, even unconscious with ice chips in a rolled towel lying on his forehead.

The medic had said it was a concussion resulting of the blow on the nose, that he’ll eventually be okay, once they made sure he was fine while conscious. So when he sees his eyes fluttering open, he approaches, only to see the most splendid blue eyes he has ever seen. They look at each other for a couple of seconds and the guy just asks him for an autograph. Erik can’t help but laugh at that. The kid just woke up from a concussion, and the first thing he asks is not where he is, or who the fuck is the man looking at him like that, but if he can just fucking have an autograph.

“We’ll see to that later, all right?”

The brunette tries to laugh but finds that his nose is painful, and Erik can only sympathize.

“Take it easy, would you? Can you tell me your name?”

“Charles.”

“Charles,” Erik acknowledges. “How do you feel? Do you know what happened?”

“I… Don’t really…”

“That’s all right. Don’t press the matter. You took a pretty bad hit, you were out for about an hour. But the medic here took care of you. She needs to make sure you are fine, okay?”

Charles looks at the medic still waiting at the tent’s entrance, before gazing back to him, as if he trusted him, as if he knew him. Well, maybe he does, in a certain way. Being a fan and all. He must know Erik’s public life from the internet.

“Where’s Raven?”

The incomprehension must have shown on his face because Charles blushes and staggers.

“She’s my… my sister. She was at the back of the crowd, god, She might  have not seen what happened, she’s waiting for me!”

As Charles tries to sit up, Erik barely contains him with his hands on Charles’ shoulders, but the sudden movement must have made him lose his balance because now Charles is falling back on the cot, his eyes closed and his face stiffened. Erik moves his right hand from the slender shoulder to the base of his skull, threading his fingers through the long chestnut hair to prevent him from hitting his head again and worsen the concussion. The medic has come closer, concerned by Charles’ failure at sitting up, so Erik just steps back and retreats to the mouth of the pavilion to try and calm a bit down, letting her do her job for once.

He hears Charles object and telling her that _he is fine, thank you very much, apart from the headache splitting his skull in two apparently using a very nasty ice pick_. Erik can’t prevent a smirk from popping on his mouth. He hadn’t noticed that Charles had such a posh English accent before, so out of context in a metal festival. If he didn’t know so well as not to stop at the first impression, he could say Charles didn’t belong. But he more than anyone knows that anyone belongs in this giant family.

His phone starts buzzing in his pocket, announcing a text message, so he plucks it from his jeans to look at the screen, and deflates a little bit.

He comes back inside, close to Charles, as the medic finishes her physical exam.

She turns to him and tells him, as if he were family, that Charles needs a bit more rest, until the headache dulls, before he can go back outside. She can’t let him go into the wildness of a full grown festival without being sure he’ll feel all right enough not to collapse at the least bustle.

“Charles,” Erik starts. “I’m sorry, I have to go. Will you be okay? Do you have your phone? I’ll give you my number in case you need anything, all right? But do keep it to yourself, okay? I’m counting on you.”

He decidedly doesn’t look at the hurt leaking from Charles’ gaze, nor does he feel his heart squeeze painfully at the idea of not seeing him again before he has to leave for the rest of the tour.

***

After Erik leaves, Charles doesn’t have anything more to do than let the time pass and sulk. He hears a bit of the current show he is missing, but it seems far away from him, the sounds muffled by the wind and the flap of the tent. Someone else eventually comes inside in order to have the bloodied scratches on his left biceps cleaned, but he doesn’t stay long.

It’s later again that he finally is able to seat, and then to get up under the scrutiny of the medic. She releases him after a last check up and the order of keeping out of the way for the rest of his time here.

First thing he does is to look for Raven. He has left her for too long, more than an hour, maybe two, and he didn’t have any signal back in the tent. He walks for a bit, goes back in front of the stage Erik’s band was playing on, but doesn’t find her there. He then goes to the entrance, hoping to find her somewhere near the other stages, and his luck is with him this time, as he notices her bright blue dress and blond hair near one of the covered stages. It’s when he is a few feet away from her that he notices she’s not alone. She chatting with a tall, lanky guy, both with a glass full of beer. Their debate seems animated, but Raven stops the moment she sees Charles.

“Charles! Where have you been?! I was waiting for you at the end of your damn gig, but you never came back! Were you abducted by that singer you like so much or what?”

Charles chuckles.

“You’ll never guess what happened. But it included a trip to the first aid so… I’ll explain later if you don’t mind.” She pulls a face at that, but Charles rapidly dismisses it. “I’m fine, really. But what did you do while I was incapacitated? I see you’ve found someone to talk to?”

The guy – dark brown hair, blue eyes hidden behind glasses, all but jumps out of his skin when the attention goes back to him.

“Oh yeah, this is Hank, we happened to be waiting in the same line for the bar and we talked. That’s all, you know.”

Charles laughs, and clasps the other’s hand in his.

“Nice to meet you, Hank. Beware of my sister. She bites.”

And he dodges a blow she intended to land on his shoulder. “Don’t hit me, I’m injured!”

“Hmm... uh, Raven, it’s time to go, if you want to see the next band, so…” gently interrupts Hank.

“Yes! It reminds me, Charles, didn’t you want to go to _Magnestorm_ ’s signing session? I remember that it was overlapping with this gig?”

Charles’ heart misses a beat before going back on track, racing.

“You’re right! See you later!”

He’s ready to dash when Raven grabs his wrist.

“Wait, you idiot! I still have your tee-shirt. Put it on!” She opens her handbag and gets the aforementioned fabric out of it. “Now you can go do your bambi eyes to him! Shoo!”

 

Charles goes back to the mainstages, walks among people sitting and standing in front of but still far away from the one currently occupied, to reach the corner where the merchandising and the signing sessions hold place. _Magnestorm_ is thankfully still sitting at the back of the room, talking and shaking hands with each and every fan coming to see them, all smiling and seeming content. Erik is at the centre of the band, the electric light igniting his hair to flaming shades of red that usually don’t show that much, his smile blinding as he laughs to a jab from a random man Charles can’t see distinctly. But the queue moves and he loses his sight, so he just waits silently, alone, processing the few hours that just passed, aware that he could have dreamt it all. But the new number on his phone tells him he didn’t. He smiles coyly to himself. He’s actually living so many people’s dream, meeting someone famous and sharing something with them. That’s definitively not like seeing them and talking to them for a handful of seconds before they meet the next nobody in the line. Not considering Charles has always been really attracted by _Magnestorm_ ’s singer… Really, it could have been worse. It helps put his head injury into perspective.

 

Charles is soon at the front row, and he can observe while waiting for the last men before him to move on. Many have come after him, he won’t be able to linger near Erik any more than another person. He feels a pang of disappointment at the thought, but he doesn’t have the time to loiter on it, because Erik has lifted his head from the poster he is signing and his gaze has fallen on Charles. His grey-green-blue eyes shine so brightly that Charles has to duck his head, hiding the shy but relieved smile that has automatically taken place on his face. But Charles hears noise and when he glances back, Erik is up and circling the table he was signing on, coming to him. He stops just in front of him, the last guardrail separating them as they look at each other.

Finally - even if only a few seconds at most had passed, Erik opens his mouth, gesturing him to cross the last line and join him.

“Charles, what the hell are you doing here? How are you feeling?” he inquires, worry clouding his face as he lets his eyes wander on Charles face and neck, making him blush at the attention.

“I’m fine, thank you. I have been released, if that’s what bothering you. I didn’t escape.”

It makes Erik laugh, and Charles is stunned by the sheer rawness of it, the following smile so unbidden, so true. Erik then takes his hand and goes back to the table, indicating a seat a few feet back.

“If you don’t mind waiting for me, we could go grab some food afterwards? I’m starving.”

“Yeah, sure, if I’m not bothering anyone by being here…” Charles starts, but the pleased smile on Erik’s face convinces him. The singer then returns to the table, all gazes on him as he sits and resumes his signing with even more energy than before.

 

Charles doesn’t really see the members, he’s behind them. But he can see the fans. It takes a bit for them to go back to what they were doing after the interruption, but soon enough they all concentrate back on congratulating the band.

 

The flow ends up reducing, and soon enough it’s time for the next band to take their place. Erik grabs the remnant of their posters and signs a last one, passes it to his friends before getting it back and offering it to Charles.

“See, you didn’t come for nothing. You’ve got your autograph!”

Erik’s smile is a bit smug, but Charles lets it roll over him. Erik turns back to his band and exchange a few words with his gruffy guitarist, and then gestures Charles out by the back door.

“Let me grab some stuff and we’ll go.” Erik says, a hand at the small of Charles back as he guides him through the parking lot next to a massive tour bus. He gets inside and comes back a few seconds later, wearing a leather jacket covering his tattooed arms and neck, and aviator-style sunglasses.

“Shall we?” Erik asks, playfully presenting his arm for Charles to take.

“We shall.” he answers, and puts his hand on the crook of Erik’s elbow until they reach the exit of the bands’ area. They then put a little more distance between them and start crossing the festival to join the food tents near the entrance.

Erik’s stride is wide and confident, and Charles has to walk faster than usual to keep up. Sometimes, he finds himself just a tad behind Erik, and he can observe him for a few seconds without completely turning his face to Erik, his handsome, relaxed features, with just the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, his beautiful eyes hidden behind the shades, his general attitude exuding confidence. He sees some of the metalheads they cross path with turn their heads in their direction, surprise and recognition all over their faces, but nobody seems to dare bother the famous Erik Lehnsherr.

Erik is far from being the only star walking among the common folk, as Charles could say. It’s even common knowledge, and sometimes, they tumble over a group of fans and end up drinking beer with them.

But for now, nobody disturbs them.

 

They finally reach the food stands, and end up grabbing some local food that smells  deliciously. They sit in the grass, the summer sun barely starting to set, flooding them with golden light. They are far away from one of the covered, secondary stages, but the screen allows them to comfortably watch the band playing, the sound blasting from the amplifiers loud enough for them to listen while talking and eating.

And Charles is really surprised by the easiness with which he can talk to Erik. The man is a superstar, but that’s not enough to put him above all. He’s human, he laughs, he jokes, he eats - and makes food fall from his fork to the ground when he tries to get it in his mouth while argumenting with Charles. His smile - the true one, Charles has discovered - shows so many teeth it could be weird, but it suits him so well that Charles makes everything he can to see it as much as possible.

They finish their food - which revealed to be really tasty, with strong spices and sweet sauce, and drop the wastes in the bin before walking back to the first mainstage. Charles had planned to watch one of the headlining bands from the beginning, and it happens that Erik likes it too. They still have half an hour to wait, but the crowd already starts to pile up in front of the stage. Charles and Erik make a stop at one of the bars to grab a pint, and Erik, after contesting Charles’ idea of buying it for both of them, finally has to relinquish because he doesn’t have the prepaid card for it.

“Really, Charles, that should be me paying.” he starts, bickering.

“And why is that exactly, Mister Superstar? Don’t worry, I’ve been there for a day and a half already, and I couldn’t really let myself die of dehydration, right? Besides, I’ve got plenty enough money for two on the card, as Raven was supposed to stay with me but…” he sighs.

“She’s your girlfriend?” Erik asks, seeming wary.

“Sister. Step sister, actually, remember, I think I mentioned her earlier? She’s the one who kept my tee-shirt during your gig. That’s why I have it now… I had to find her when I got out, I thought she was going crazy with worry, but no, she met a guy and they were drinking together so… I left them there to go to your signing session, and I don’t have any whining text from her so I guess they still are together somewhere on site.”

Erik’s shoulders relax, and Charles understands that for a moment, the singer had thought that Charles was in a relationship. Damn, he should have phrased his sentence differently…

“Maybe we’ll see her later, but she’s not really into your band, despite my trying, so don’t expect some weird fangirling or anything, it’ll be okay.” And he adds, to himself, “I really hope you don’t meet, actually, she’ll never let it go after that…” and Erik has visibly heard that anyway, because his smile is back on his face. They share a glance, gentle and hesitant, before resuming their walk to the stage. They get past the people staying far enough from it and dive into the crowd, getting closer until they’re in the middle of the human mass. It’s pointless to try and get to the front rows. Those are packed to the rim with people. But Charles, craning his neck just a little, has a good view anyway, so it’s fine by him. Erik, taller as he is, won’t have any problem.

Slowly, the natural light dims and gets darker, the sun giving its place to the moon. The first fires ignite at the top of the bars and the scenes, creating a rather hellish sight.

 

Soon, the lights on the scene go out, announcing the beginning of the gig, and the crowd cheers loudly. The guitars start to play, and it’s an explosion of light and noise when the singer starts the first song. Fists in the air, both men accompanies the singing mass to the lyrics.

 

***

 

Erik is enjoying himself immensely. It’s been a long time since he mingled with a crowd as if he were just anybody, and Charles happens to be of tremendous company. He’s so natural with him ; not once has he felt like he was a fan adoring him. He happens to be witted, fun, and so enjoyable that Erik forgets multiple times that it’s just a guy from a festival ; that he won’t see him again after tomorrow. But he tries not to think about that and to enjoy himself. But with beer, music he likes and good company, he doesn’t need anything more.

They jump, sing, move in synch ; arms in the air, the wind meddling with their hair.

 

But Erik gets out of his trance when he sees the people in front of him starting to move wildly, and first thing he does is to grab a closed-eyed, not knowing Charles. Erik tugs the kid - shouldn’t call him that - under his arm as he turns, shielding him from the wave of bodies crashing against his body. He has the time to notice that Charles’ shoulder fits perfectly under him, and that his face is _so close_ , but there are more pressing matters just now. He puts his hand on Charles’ head to protect him from any hit that could come by inadvertence, until the song ends and the crowd settles.

He gazes down to the body slotted against him ; and that’s only now that he feels Charles’ arms circling his abdomen. Well. He wouldn’t mind staying a bit more like this, but nobody’s moving anymore so he doesn’t have any reason left. They both disentangle and avert their eyes ; up until the new song starts and any discomfort is forgotten.

 

They go to another concert after this one, and it’s early in the morning when they walk back to the camp. Erik doesn’t think. He just follows Charles, even if his tour bus is at the opposite end of the festival site. They walk in a companionable silence until they reach Charles’ tent, lost in the middle of thousands of colourful fabric houses. Most of their occupants are still on site, but two people are seated on foldable chairs, a blond girl and a man with dark hair, from what he gathers from the spot lightning this part of the camp. They are deeply into kissing and groping, and haven’t spotted the both of them yet.

Charles puts his hand on his arm - he regrets having his jacket, he can’t feel him - to get his attention, a finger on his red - too red - lips to indicate to stay silent. Charles comes closer, his so blue eyes shining in the powerful electric light, and whispers in his ear.

“That’s my sister. Let them be, grab a beer before you go? I’ve got fresh ones in my tent, I can get them.”

Erik just nods, melting with the heat he can feel radiating from the body against him, from the soft breeze his breath creates against the skin of his neck, and suddenly his heart shrinks, because it’s nearly the end of that beautiful encounter, and it wants to extend, too, to explode in his chest, as Charles’ hand moves from his biceps to his hip, lingers here for a second, before leaving as Charles walks to his tent, disappears inside, and comes back a moment later with two bottles and a grin on his face.

They open them and clink them together before Erik takes a mouthful. His heart’s beating fast, and he really, really wants to…

He’s once again near Charles, their body almost touching.

“Charles…” he all but whines.

And Charles, of course, watches him silently, his mouth slightly open, his lips wet from the fresh beer, so inviting.

“I don’t want to go. That would mean never seeing you again and I can’t…”

He has to take a breath, to pull back just a little. He drops his beer, letting it fall and spill on the ground, as he puts his hands in Charles’ hair, fingers and thumbs, an itch that didn’t leave him anytime during the day, his fingers massaging Charles’ scalp and tugging lightly at the smooth hair, his thoughts reduced to only one thing.

“Charles… Can I kiss you?”

They look at each other, before Charles closes his eyes for a few seconds, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Yeah, Erik, I think I’d like you to.”

So Erik does just that.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I hope you enjoyed your reading ! There isn't enough music AU so...
> 
> Please tell me what you thought about that !
> 
> See you soon
> 
> PS : The challengers are the lovely security guys who receive you when you slam over the crowd and put you back on earth without a scratch. They do an amazing work so cheers to them !


End file.
